


Not Waving But Drowning

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Not Waving but Drowning [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Audience, Brotherly Love, Emergency - Freeform, Epilepsy, Fit, Gen, Hospital, Hospitalisation, Hurt/Comfort, Library, Medical, Medical Emergency, Medication, New Friends, Relapse, Seizure, T/C Seizure, University, convulsion, convulsions, emergency services, epileptic, fitting, h/c, onlookers - Freeform, seizure disorder, status, status epileptics, student, tonic clonic, tonic clonic seizure, tonic-clonic seizure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University life flows well - for two weeks, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Waving But Drowning

Despite precautions taken, his health being reasonably good and his medication never missed, Sherlock experienced a tonic-clonic seizure of epic proportions during his second week at University. The hospital staff suggested it was due to the changes in his life and Violet said it was because her baby shouldn’t have been alone. In all likelihood, it was a contribution of numerous factors; but the outcome remained the same. 

He had been in the library with a young man he’d become acquainted with and didn’t find overly boring within the first few days by the name of Victor; a singular man in his appearance, dark hair and dark eyes with striking, naturally tanned skin. Victor had taken an immediate liking to Sherlock’s sarcastic manner and obviously broad mind, and Sherlock had found him agreeable. They huddled themselves into the library, under the guise of study, to explore the archaic building. With takeaway beakers of coffee and no real intention of working, they took an open table at the furthest reach of the library and sat in relative quiet, getting to know one another. 

“Your brother went here too, didn’t he?” Victor asked, sipping at his hot, strong black coffee. “I’m sure you said that?”

Sherlock nodded his head, his fingers playing with his cup. “Yeah - he works not too far from here now, has a small house, but I don’t think he’ll remain there much longer. How about you?” He asked, “First of your family or following in someone’s footsteps?” 

“My father’s, actually.” Victor said with a slow, embarrassed nod. “Daddy Dearest studied here, as did his father, so it seemed only fitting. I’m not certain I’m going to end up with a job at the end of it but, it will fill the time.” 

Sherlock chuckled quietly. “Those must be big shoes to fill?” 

Victor shook his head, “Not as big as you might imagine. My father is now a drunkard whom I haven’t had contact with in three years, and my Grandfather died when I was thirteen.” He took another sip of his coffee before placing the cup onto the table between them. 

“I’ve never lost anyone,” Sherlock looked up, “I mean, my Grandfathers have both passed away, but it was before I had understanding of it.” 

“It’s is an odd experience to describe. You don’t understand loss until you feel it.” Victor said thoughtfully, rubbing his right hand across his two-day stubble. “Similarly, I don’t know the experience of having siblings. I’m an only child.” 

“Lucky you.” Sherlock smiled at him. “No - Mycroft isn’t entirely insufferable.” 

Victor nodded his head. “I often imagine siblings to be like pets. I had pets growing up, they’re my closest to having brothers.” 

“Now that we can mutually relate to,” Sherlock pointed a finger at him, “We had a dog - Irish Setter called Redbeard. They put him down when I was a kid, he was sick…” 

“That’s an odd feeling too, isn’t it? Saying goodbye to a pet. Seems as though one shouldn’t experience close feelings for an animal such as that, but it’s hard to not develop a bond when they’re such loving and loyal beings.” Victor said thoughtfully, and Sherlock found himself amazed at the honesty he emanated. 

“It’s true.” Sherlock agreed, swallowing down what remained of his cooling coffee. “I rather think I was closer to him than my brother, though.” He smiled. Victor responded with a quiet laugh, one that crinkled his eyes and made his shoulders shake, and Sherlock liked the way it sounded. 

“I don’t get it,” Victor said suddenly after a moment of quiet and Sherlock raised his brows at him in questioning. “You look so brooding and unapproachable, but you’re not that hard to tolerate.” Sherlock pulled a face, unsure whether to be offended or flattered. “So seeing as you’re approachable enough,” He said with a grin, “Can I ask a question?” 

Sherlock licked his lips and nodded, “I suppose.” 

“What’s with the coat collar?” Victor asked, laughing a little too loudly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and curled his lip at him. “It’s all dramatic and dark, with your...pointy cheekbones and the hair. What are you, a Victorian throwback?! You’re like the modern embodiment of Dracula!” 

Sherlock laughed despite himself. “Shut up.” 

“Seriously, pal, it’s strange.” Victor continued to tease, then quickly ensured that Sherlock knew he was only playing. “No, I’m kidding. But you really are a lot more likable than you present yourself to be. You’re not...used to people, are you?” 

Sherlock shrugged, a little awkward. “I’ve never been fond of spending my time around others, no.” He admitted. “Stupidity annoys me and, well, most children at my school were stupid and unfortunately followed me all through to completing my A-Levels. You learn to put up a wall.” 

Victor nodded his head, “I can understand that. Well you don’t need to put up a wall here - people all seem to at least possess a modicum of brains.” He watched Sherlock a moment, frowning at his coffee cup, and waved his hand in his face. “Didn’t like it, I take it?” 

Sherlock looked up at him and shook his head, “No, it was good. Just...feeling a little sick. Bit warm in here, maybe we could leave?” _Oh no, oh no… ___

__“It’s three degrees outside, Sherlock!” Victor tutted._ _

__“We could go back to the dorms?” Sherlock suggested, loosening his scarf from under his chin. “I don’t have the heating up to a hundred degrees!” He tried to smile. _Not here, not here…__ _

__“Are you alright? You’ve gone a bit...strange.” Victor commented, watching as Sherlock got to his feet and braced his hands on the table. “When you said you felt sick I didn’t think you actually meant it.” Victor laughed nervously as Sherlock swallowed loudly and pulled his scarf from around him completely, laying it on the table. “Jesus, what’s the matter?” Victor stood, as Sherlock went to walk and struggled to coordinate his legs._ _

__“Shit...um...floor…” Sherlock looked up at Victor, blinking in a rhythm and working his jaw._ _

__“Floor?” Victor shook his head, walking around the table. He braced his hands on Sherlock’s biceps. “Pal, what’s wrong with you?”_ _

__“Floor...” Sherlock babbled, weakening at the same time as suddenly stiffening. Victor, with his hands still on Sherlock’s arms, let go suddenly as Sherlock made a wicked loud groaning noise and dropped in a prone shambles to the floor._ _

__“What the f…” Victor looked around him at the faces that suddenly turned to them. The librarian came over, looking a little like she was about to tell them off, as Sherlock gave another loud, guttural groan and his limbs began to seize and heave, jerking his body in an uncoordinated pattern of rocks and waves, tilting his head back into a painful angle. Victor watched as Sherlock’s arms spasmed back and forth across his torso and jaw twitched. The noises he made made Victor feel sick; deep, throaty groans followed by choking sounds that were almost like vomiting without actually bringing anything up._ _

__“What’s going on?” The librarian asked sternly, removing her glasses and letting them hang around her neck on the thick cord they swung from._ _

__“I’m pre-med,” someone called out, “And this man is having a seizure.” They approached with two others, seemingly studying with them. “Does he have epilepsy?”_ _

__“What?” Victor frowned. “I only met him like two weeks ago, and I don’t even know what that is.” He looked back at Sherlock, convulsing fiercely on the floor. “How do we help him? Can I, like, hold him down?”_ _

__“Don’t touch him,” The med student said quickly, holding out his hand to Victor. “You can’t interfere, just let it happen. But give me your coat, we can put it under his head. And can you call nine-nine-nine?” He turned to the librarian. Everyone adhered to the med student’s wishes, watching Sherlock continue to seize on the carpet before them. He turned around to one of his co-studiers and jerked his head to call them closer to him, “Time it?”_ _

__“A minute and a half so far,” She said, keeping an eye on the delicate watch around her wrist._ _

__“Has he taken anything, been drinking?” The med student looked up at Victor._ _

__“I don’t know,” Victor held out his hands and shook his head. “Not while he’s been with me, at least, and that’s been maybe two or three hours.”_ _

__“And you don’t know if he has epilepsy?” The med student pushed._ _

__Victor shook his head again, “Like I said I’ve known him since the start of term. I don’t know his life story. And, like I also said, I don’t even know what epi-epol- _that_ is!” _ _

__The student look back at Sherlock, thankful for the cushioning of Victor’s coat beneath his head as the convulsions seemed to intensify, rocking his body violently. “Time?” He called out._ _

__“Two-ten.” the girl responded._ _

__“Any sign of that bloody ambulance?” the med student looked around, searching for the librarian. He spotted her a little way behind them, on the telephone, and it settled his mind that she was making the call he’d asked her to make. “Fuck - look,” He pointed without touching at the silver chain visible out of the edge of Sherlock’s coat. Trying not to disturb the jerking of his limb, he managed to work the bracelet out enough to see that it was a med-alert chain. “He’s got epilepsy.”_ _

__“Did he have a bag?” The girl asked, looking at Victor._ _

__“Why do you keep asking me things, I barely know him!” Victor snapped. “No! He didn’t have a f...no bag!”_ _

__“He’s really struggling over the saliva build up.” The med student looked back up at his female counterpart. “Time?”_ _

__“Three-twenty-two.” She said, pulling a face. “Surely he’d carry something to be administered in case of seizures?”_ _

__“Well it doesn’t look like he did, and he’s as much use as a chocolate coal scoop.” The med student gestured toward Victor. “We just have to wait for the first responders.”_ _

__“He could fry his brain, it’s approaching four minutes. Five is a medical emergency.” The girl said, anxiousness clear in her tone._ _

__“Does he have a mobile phone?” The med student looked up at Victor._ _

__Victor shrugged, “In his coat pocket if he does.”_ _

__The med student rolled his eyes. Useless! “Do you know his dorm room?” He asked, clearly losing his patients with Victor._ _

__“Yes, we share.” Victor said, shaking his head at the relevance._ _

__“And yet you don’t know anything about him? Does he take medication, are there benzos in his room, because they’d be ideal to give him right now?” The med student pushed him and Victor shrugged his shoulders once again._ _

__“What aren’t you understanding when I’m saying that I don’t know? I barely even know him. It’s been two bloody weeks! He’s a bit freaky, and really private. He hasn’t even unpacked, everything is in a big trunk. If he’s got medication for anything, then he’s hiding it in there, but I haven’t seen him take anything in the last fortnight. And if he had benzos, he’d be a little more chill than he is now.” Victor flashed his eyes at the med student. “Yeah, I don’t need to be pre-med to know that diazepam is a good fucking drug.”_ _

__“Five-fifteen,” The girl’s shrill voice called into their argument and both Victor and the med student looked up at her, and then at Sherlock with worry in their expressions. “He’s choking…”_ _

__“I can’t roll him, he’s still seizing.” The med student said, holding out his hands at a loss as to how to help._ _

__“Is the time important?” Victor asked, looking at the girl._ _

__“The longer the seizure lasts, the more dangerous it becomes. Even for someone with a diagnosis of epilepsy. The brain can’t handle the temperature rising so high. And if it keeps going, it can be something life-threatening, a condition when the seizure just continues. He could die.” The girl said frantically. “So if there is anything you know, you gotta say!”_ _

__Victor looked at Sherlock, paling in fear, and back up at the girl, “I’m sorry...I don’t know anything about him.”_ _

__The crowd around them had grown and, although silent, they were amazed at the show before them. Victor didn’t even seem to register the spectators until he saw three paramedics approaching and heard one of them begin to clear everyone away. The med student was a godsend as he and his female friend gave the paramedics the low-down. Victor stood, rooted to the spot, as the seizure finally began to slow after seven minutes. He watched the paramedics insert a cannula and swiftly inject him with Lorazepam. And, in another few moments, they swept Sherlock up onto a stretcher and bundled him into the ambulance waiting outside._ _

__

__

__Sherlock woke up in the hospital ten hours later with severe pains throughout his body, painful ulcers lining the inside of his cheeks, and a headache like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He was exhausted, anxious and afraid as he scanned the room with lidded, hazy eyes and tried to assess his surroundings._ _

__“Sherlock.”_ _

___Mycroft_. _ _

__“You’re at the hospital, Sherlock. You’ve had a particularly aggressive seizure and you’re going to be in a lot of pain and be sleepy for a while so don’t try to move or talk, just rest. You have an EEG and ECG attached, so don’t be alarmed if you’re hearing noises, okay. Sleep - and we can talk when you feel better.”_ _

__Sherlock sighed heavily and the movement and air change inside of him made his head feel like it was vibrating. “Um...Victor.” He said, his voice hoarse and his words sluggish against his swollen tongue._ _

__“Who?” Mycroft asked. “Shh, sleep. We can talk later.”_ _

__Sherlock sighed again and let himself slip down deep into the fatigue._ _

__Watching his brother sleeping, seeing the lines of blood still coming from his mouth from where he’d bitten his cheeks and tongue, and still able to see the greasy marks in his hair from how he’d sweated profusely, Mycroft felt sick and angry. How could one go twelve months with controlled seizures and suddenly experience one like never before? He sat down into the chair beside Sherlock’s bed and kept his eyes on him. He wouldn’t move until he was awake again, he promised, and then he intended on doing everything he could to make sure Sherlock never had to go through that again._ _


End file.
